you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

She had been so wrapped up in her own irritation that the woman hardly noted the way her body steamed in the grass. Her eyes roll at what Dorian suggests; she had a feeling this was going to be beyond hopeless. That was until she was sitting up and pulling that magic back inside of her, stifling it. Vhalla can't help but let that smile of delight tug at her features, her gaze entirely smug as she controls that ability. The assassin felt as if she could take on the world! That chuckle emitting from Dorian causes the witch to snap her blue eyes towards him; not entirely sure if he was making fun of her. Seeing that he was merely chuckling at her merriment, she flashes him a grin, a real smile full of contentment and excitement.

When Dorian explains her emotions, that smile vanishes from her lips though that guarded look she so kept up was dropping and instead of scoffing at Dorian's words, she tilts her head back, her hair falling in waves over her back, ticking her arms as she simply ponders it for a moment. "How long did it take you to master your magic?" She asks, her blue eyes shifting towards him again, open, curious. The more questions she asked the more she would learn and perhaps with Dorian she could not fear to be criticized for asking questions. As the conversation subtly shifts after she complains how terribly hungry she is, her brows draw inward at his admission.

It was true, she had never seen Dorian ate before but she simply believed he would do it on his own time or be served by any manner of servant he might create out of thin air. She wasn't entirely sure what his magic was capable of. Giving a small shrug, she regards him with a new curious look, brows arched in surprise at him. "How does your body function without any sustenance?" She asks a bit bewildered, though her eyes darken a bit at Sebastian's name. She hadn't forgiven the vampire from that night all those weeks ago, though that anger did not burn her as nearly much. "Is food even desirable to you?" Another question is rattled off to hide that disdain in her eyes.

That guarded Vhalla is gone for the time being, opening up to the faerie â€" enjoying the ability to freely talk to someone again. She had been able to chat with Sam like this before she left; but now, now the assassin was warier about who she shared things with. Between Sam and Will leaving she couldn't take another hole in her heart to be ripped out. Quickly shoving those thoughts away, she returns to the discussion at hand, her fingers running through those blades of grass, enjoying the feel along her scarred fingers. Taking the plunge, she asks him to show her his power and she straightens when he agrees, her eyes wide with curiosity.

She had seen this power before. All those months ago when she sat on his bed waiting for him to retire to his quarters, the night he had offered to teach her control. It seemed like a century ago. Watching, she gathers herself to her knees, leaning forward to watch that mass of energy transform into a sword. Fascinated, she keeps her hands firmly planted in the ground, she knew better than to touch magic, it was always dangerous in some form or another. And then it was changing rapidly, into an entirely new blade and Vhalla admires its perfect replication of the rapier.

Leaning back, she gives him the room to transform the mass of energy again and again with such ease there is a certain envy coating her insides, though she does her best to shove it down. Continuing to inspect the weapons, she lifts her gaze briefly to meet Dorian's a nod of appreciation in his direction, "That could be very helpful," she states, already her mind working through all those scenarios of her jobs, where it would best come in handy, never having to hide a blade after an assassination. She hated herself for thinking these things, yet she had been trained. A warrior in her own right but she felt no better than a murderer most days.

Sighing to herself, she falls back letting Dorian finish his display of magic. Instead of commenting more on the blades, she simply turns the conversation back to magic itself, wanting to be rid of those dark thoughts that so plagued her moments before. Listening to his explanation, she tilts her head to the side, regarding him for a moment, offering a brief smile in return to his joke, though she's quickly back to asking questions.

"I've taken out a good chunk of the city once," she cringes at the memory â€" she was lucky in was an abandoned warehouse district and no one got hurt except for her assigned target, how Ivan beat her that night. "Even when that happened, I couldn't feel the end of it. I had hoped that I would have one quick burst of magical use and then it would be over. Do you think if I were to starve myself my magic would be weaker?" She asks, musing, though she didn't really think it would make her magic any weaker, perhaps just burn up her energy â€" perhaps kill her.

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered